


Meet Me in the Hallway

by ApparentlyNotTooOldForThis (Original_Cypher)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, I accidentally wrote Liam as Scott McCall, M/M, but I actually quite like who she is in there, cause she's me - but much hotter, she's a side character - she won't bug you if you dislike the real person, that is not the Taylor Swift you know, you can consider it side Ziam or side Ziam broship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Original_Cypher/pseuds/ApparentlyNotTooOldForThis
Summary: Neighbours AU“The door opened and then there was this- this… CREATURE, I swear to god, Ni. My new building is the gateway to an alternate dimension!”[aka, Louis keeps making a fool of himself in front of Harry. He would kindly like the Universe to STOP. Fucking. With him.]





	1. Louis

**Author's Note:**

> This story is completed. It will be posted chapter by chapter but it is finished and written up. It won't leave you hanging. ;)

On the bright side, the waterproof makeup had lasted all day. The Elven King Louis the Caster of Don, the Third, looked amazing all throughout. On the darker side, if he had to go back to class tomorrow slightly green from leftover body paint, he was going to be made fun of by his students again. Uni kids these days, no grasp on the value in a good weekend of cosplay amongst fellow nerds. It gave the beer and barbecue quite the special feel.

Louis added cleansing lotion to yet another cotton pad and went back to scrubbing the side of his face. Why on hell did Lottie exfoliate for fun? This felt terrible. Firm believer in the Elbow Grease Method, he resolved to do only his face with the makeup remover, and get his neck and chest with a glove in the shower.

He blinked confusedly at the chime of his doorbell. After three days away with the crew in the middle of nature, he was slowly readjusting to city noises and technology. He hadn't brought his phone with him on the camping trip, knowing full well how pointless it was in a zone with no power outlets and sub zero reception. When he'd turned it back on earlier and been assaulted by five successive text notifications, he'd stared at it in incomprehension for a full three seconds. Sleep deprivation and a mild hangover had probably played their part in that slow reaction time as well.

Louis didn't think much before he went and swung the door open. Whoever had rung was either one of the lads or a close relative. Anyone else would have had to call from the building lobby.

Except it was none of the above. Louis found himself looking up, and _up_ at a tall, long haired and _gorgeous_ stranger. He stared, gaping, for a while, as the man did a warranted double take on Louis' appearance. “Err...”

Belatedly, Louis realized he was cradling a wet, green cotton pad to his cheek and dropped his hand.

“I, er... Is this yours?” YSL Model asked, then licked his lips in a way that did not at all make Louis zero in on how pink and plush they were. He also lifted a hand, Louis' scarf folded and draped over it like an offering. “It was on the floor, like it slipped and fell from a bag or something? And it looked to be trailing this way. Since there's only your flat and mine on this end of the corridor I figured...”

“I... yeah.” Louis retrived the cloth in jerky, awkward motions. Wincing as he took in his own green hands, with actual skin showing at the fingertips. “I just... got back. Had it looped around my rucksack, cheers, I... Yeah, thanks,” he rambled pointlessly.

“Okay. Welcome.” Pigeon Toes looked at him some more. Stared, really. Louis felt like screaming. “I'll, erm...” he stepped back, seemingly realizing. “leave you to it.”

“Yeah, thanks, I...” Louis held up the scarf and gestured. “cheers.”

Louis waited for the man's door to click shut before he closed his own and banged his head against it softly. His new neighbor! Across The Hall New Neighbor™ was not an elderly couple. No. It was a bloke that looked about his age and seemed nice, judging by this first impression. A guy that could be a friend. A gorgeous lad that Louis wouldn't mind staring at some more.  
But nooooo, he had to make a complete tit out of himself and be a babbling mess. New Guy would most likely avoid him like the plague forever now.

He rested his weight on his forehead, letting his arms hang and opened his eyes. And whined. Because not only that. But he'd done it all.... while green, with half a face of raw, mostly human looking skin.

 

xXx

 

“I can't believe I still agree to these,” Louis panted. “I'm too old for this shit, Payno.”

Liam snorted, kicking his foot back into his hand. “You love it. You called _me_ , remember?”

“Lapse in judgment. Terrible, _terrible_ lapse in judgment.”

Liam noded good naturedly. “And by terrible you mean 'fun, healthy and recurring', of course.”

“Fun?! Running with you is not _fun_ , Leeyum! Nor was it when we were roommates through uni.” Louis huffed, gulped in a few breaths and continued his haughty rant, undisturbed, while Liam bravely did his best to reign in his amusement. “If I recall correctly,” Louis squeaked awkwardly as he bent over to stretch. “it was me, with the twinky body of an asparagus heaving my lungs out, killing myself trying to keep up with you, because my best friend was becoming a hulking mass of muscle that I was unsuccessfully trying to replicate.” He poked one of said muscles - a bicep - vengefully, to illustrate his point.

“Aw..” Liam's hand squeezed the back of Louis' neck fondly, uncaring of the dampness of their skin. “And yet all that time, all your best friend thought was... _if only I had a great bum like Tommo_.”

Louis chuckled, and twisted slightly at the waist, giving himself an appreciative pat on said rear. “Eh.” He then bounced the toe of his shoe lazily off of Liam's. “Wanna come up? Grab a cuppa.” He jerked his head in the direction of the front door of his building, as if Liam needed to be reminded why they'd stopped here or where they were.

“Psh, you know how this ends, Lou. I come up, you make tea. And before we know it we're eating a mountain of nachos, bitching about students and stupid pet owners and spend the entire day in our sweaty clothes.”

Louis lifted his eyebrows, beaming hopefully at Liam. “Just like old times!”

Liam snorted. “Nice try, bro.” Louis huffed as he knocked his fist into Louis' arm. “Come by tomorrow night, yeah? Zayn's been complaining. Apparently I 'play Half Life wrong'.”

Louis laughed. “I will.”

Waving Liam off, he punched in the code to the building and patted his waistband until he felt the tiny zipped pocket meant to contain his flat's key. He fished it out, and blew his sticky fringe off his face, brushing it back with his fingers in annoyance. As he looked up, he came face to face with a wide eyed man. A familiar wide eyed man, at that. Across the hall neighbor.

Great. After green and weird, now he got to see Louis sweaty, and out of breath and gross. And wearing hot pink socks and bright blue swim shorts as running gear -- because what _is_ laundry day, even? For an intense, long lasting second, Louis let himself be utterly shallow and wish he was one of those people who looked great while working out. One of those whose skin glistens under sweat like a goddamn perfume ad, and whose damp hair makesthem resemble a beach babe and not like a drowned cat. Instead, he was the type to become pale and ghostly as blood rushed to his muscles, leaving blotchy patches of pink on his cheeks that made him look feverish more than anything. But hey, bright side, at least he looked human today. In the literal sense.

“Oh. Hi,” he croaked intelligently.

“...heeyyy...”

“Yeah,” Louis huffed, exasperated with himself and his own luck, and jogged up the stairs.

 

xXx

 

 

Okay, so obviously, trying to carry everything without a shopping bag had been a bad idea. Lesson learned, Universe. Now Louis just wished he would manage to get inside without dropping anything. He promised that next time, he'd remember to bring the canvas bag, bought especially for that purpose, that hung next to his umbrella by the door. See? He'd been trying. He'd bought a thing. It was the very reason why he'd refused to pay for another one _this_ time around.

“Oh shit, _shit_ -...” he mumbled to himself when the pile in his arm wobbled dangerously as he patted his back pocket for his keys. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he crouched down low, hoping that whatever fell wouldn't be too damaged by a shorter drop. The swaying of the box of eggs accentuated, and Louis made a split second decision to drop his hold on the bag of rice in favor of saving the more fragile item. He succeeded. The bag of rice fell to the pavement with a faint thud and no damage. However, his half drunk bottle of Yop slipped from its previously firm hold under Louis' arm and decided it preferred to wait things out in company of the rice.

On the one hand, it fell straight, landed on its butt and stayed upright in the end, after wobbling around for a second. No spillage. Which, admittedly, _never_ happened.

On the other hand, the impact caused it to pop open and Louis was powerless to avoid being sprayed in the face by goopy banana yogurt milk mixture.

Louis closed his eyes, let his shoulders drop, and sighed deeply through his nose. “There,” he said calmly. “All better.”

He wasn't even surprised to hear the front door of the building swing open, the person coming out only taking one step, then stopping, logically startled by the strange scene displayed. Nor was he surprised when he opened his eyes and found Hot Guy From Across The Hall staring at him with wide, green eyes and a gaping mouth.

Louis pressed his lips in a firm line, blinking in annoyance and cursing the entire universe. A glop of Yop fell off his lashes and ran down his cheekbone. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“You, uh... want some help?”

Louis looked down, over his armful of groceries, at his lopsided bag of rice and laughing Yop bottle cap. _Please kill me_ , he almost said. “Nope,” he chirped, instead, and waited until the man walked away uncertainly to open his arms, let everything drop and wipe his face in his sleeve.

When he looked down, and found that the wetness on his ankle was egg white soaking through his jeans. “Take away it is.”

 

xXx

 

Louis scuffed one foot over the other, using the nail of his big toe to scratch along the sole. “Can you hurry please, Liam? I'm sorry to be such a pain, but I'm sure that-...” he tensed up when he heard a door swing open behind him, and sighed. He rested his head on the wall by his own front door. “... never mind. Take your time.”

He turned around to acknowledge his neighbor, who was currently blinking at Louis' state of undress. He was staring at Louis' feet, and Louis reflexively tried to curl his toes under his sweats, tightening his arm around his bare middle. He gave the guy a cringing smile and pivoted to face his front door.

“ _What? Do you not need me to come?”_

“Yes, duh, Payno,” Louis hissed into the phone. “Still locked out, aren't I? Just-...” he checked his screen, eyeing the elevator doors as they closed on New Neighbor. “Yeah. I have battery on my phone. I'll play a game or something.”

“ _I don't have the car. I'll run over. Give me twenty?”_

“Liam, I love you. You are the best of mate a loser like me could ever hope to have.”

“ _Psshh. I want that in writing, for next time I wanna pick on movie night,”_ Liam said over the sound of putting on shoes and a door creaking open. _“On my way.”_

“Thanks, again.”

“ _Aren't you glad we swapped spare keys?”_

“Yes I am, mum. Yes I am.”

 

 

xXx

 

Never again, Louis swore to himself.

Never again would he accept Liam's offer to crash on the couch, no matter how late it was and how lazy he felt at the idea of trekking home up the hillside.

He had an hour to feed himself, scrub the grime off his body and get to work. It was never gonna happen.

He had slept fitfully, because no matter how comfortable Liam and Zayn's couch was, it wasn't a bed. It wasn't Louis' home. He had kept on tossing and turning, feeling too hot under the borrowed blanket, but too chilled by night air and cooling sweat when he'd kicked it off. If he'd taken the time to go home, he probably would have clocked more time of actual rest. Just like always. And yet, as always, here he was.

He felt gross, half awake, sleep mussed and his stomach was growling at him. For two reasons. One, he was starving. Two, he'd already done the maths and knew he wouldn't have time to make breakfast. Making a pit stop at at the usual bakery – the one he indulged his occasional cravings for pastries at – was out of the question, because it wasn't really on the way to campus.

“Bollocks,” he mumbled to himself as the elevators door slide open, fiddling with his keys to grab the right one early, in an attempt to gain a second or two.

“I was gonna say _Good morning_ ,” the slow drawl made Louis look up sharply. Of course, his fucking neighbor was there to witness him at his lowest in weeks. “but I'm getting the impression that it isn't very much.”

Louis gritted his teeth in a feral smile, which must have come off a hair's breadth away from _a_ _bsolutely manic_. “And it keeps on getting better and better,” he growled, huffing a sigh and stomping down the hall.

Fuck _everything_.

He was nearly to his door when he heard a quiet “I'm sorry.” It made him want to kick something. He wasn't sure it had been meant to be heard, but then again, why say it out loud? He was also not certain if YSL was sympathizing or apologizing. And yeah, Louis was kind of aware of what he'd made things sound like just now.

“Not your fault!” he called out, in an effort to make them both feel better. He tried and failed to contain the annoyance in his tone, but at least now he could _direct_ it. “I just must have done something pretty bad I'm not aware of, because The Universe seems hell bent on kicking my arse these days.” In front of you.

He shot a look back. Big Tall and Curly was holding the elevator open with one gigantic paw. “You okay?” he asked, soft and low, in a show of kindness that Louis felt nowhere near deserving of.

Louis swallowed, shoved everything in a little box inside his chest just like usual, and gave a passable attempt at a genuine smile. “Always am.” And with that, be pushed his door open and proceeded to race through a morning routine like hellhounds were on his trail.

 

 

xXx

 

Louis was giggling to himself. It wasn't an appropriate reaction to realizing your morning after would probably be hell, but fuck it. – butt fuck it, _ha_ ha – Yup. Plastered.

He'd felt off recently and had yearned to spend a moment feeling young. Getting fucked up on Zayn's amazing -- ama _zaayyyyn_ , bro! – stash currently made him feel reckless and foolish. Close enough. He'd take it. It was better than nothing.

He couldn't find his keys. His jeans were tight, fuck. Why the hell had he put on his clubbing jeans, anyway? Oh. Right. Originally, the plan had been takeout and dancing. Then nachos had evolved into Liam pouring shots, then announcing Zayn recently found a new supplier and... oh duh! Louis patted his jacket, finding the clinking bulge under the denim where his inside pocket was.

Then he realized. The keys were for the other door. The one to his flat. This one here required a code. Balls, this was a test, wasn't it? He was usually the one giving tests, what with being a fancy uni professor and all. He blinked confusedly at the keypad. Had there always been letters too? Was this a prank?

Before he could resort to winging it and pray he could rely on muscle memory, a hand shot into his field of vision and keyed in the code. Huh. There _were_ letters in it.

The hand had a wrist and a forearm and a lot of ink. It came attached to... That was _a lot_ of skin.

Louis blinked dazedly at the torso he found when he pivoted on his heel. 'Cause like, _technically_ , there was a shirt, but it might have been there just to dodge decency laws. Plausible deniability, and all that. It was flowy, rolled up at the elbows and a faint rosy peach color, which didn't matter because it was so sheer it could almost be called transparent at this point. A stray thought in Louis' mind was dedicated to wondering whether it would disappear if wet. So there _was_ a shirt. Ish. It was also opened so far down that it barely qualified as 'buttoned', and was tucked under a thick belt and very tight jeans. And then there were the slick black heeled boots.

Louis would have thought he'd just met Mick Jagger if he wasn't sure the rockstar's torso was both more wrinkled and less inked. What was with the menagerie?

Shiny, wide green eyes met his when he looked up. “Ohhhhh, it's the neighbor! Hiiii...” Louis hissed in an exaggerated whisper, making some kind of jazz hands motion in front of the apparition. He was a bit taken aback to see his hands do that, but sometimes, when under, um, influences, his body would chose to be emphatic of important points without bothering to consult with Louis.

“Harry.” He heard behind him, once he willed the elevator to come to him. Or it was possible one of them called for it.

The doors pinged open, Louis turned a confused frown at the curls. “What?-... Hey, I'll take my time if I want to!” he huffed, stepping inside.

GQ Cover Boy blinked at him. Now, look who was holding up everyone. “No- _Harry_ ,” he said, stepping in, and punched in their floor number. Good, Louis had been having doubts on which it was. “I'm Harry. Thats my name.”

Louis blinked at him.

“You called me 'the neighbor',” Harry clarified.

“Oh. Okay.” Louis beamed. “Hi.”

“What's your name?” Harry. It's a good thing he knew that now, because his new nickname would certainly have been along the lines of Butterfly Chest and Louis had _some_ self respect left.

“I'm kinda smashed. Sorry.”

Harry chuckled. “Alright, Kinda Smashed Sorry,” his hand was at Louis' elbow to guide him out of the elevator. It was a bit insulting, but Louis was too busy warring with his sense of balance to protest. “Will you be okay getting in?”

“I... yeah.”

Harry stood watch, though, as he fumbled with the lock until his door obeyed. Or maybe Harry had the same mutiny problem on his side of the hall, but Louis had an inkling their levels of intoxication varied widely.

He stepped in, then whirled brutally, eyes wide. It was a very bad move, and his vision took a couple of seconds catching up with him. Ugh. “Louis!” he yelled, far too loud for the late hour. “I'm Louis.”

Harry was standing in his doorway, a smile on his face that was amused, and fond and so, so very Payno that Louis wanted to hide his face. And then he said, soto voce. “Goodnight, Louis.”

When the door closed, Louis could hear Harry break into cackles on the other side. Groaning, he shut his own and hit his forehead against it repeatedly.

When he woke the next morning, he felt like he'd never actually stopped doing so.

 


	2. Harry

“Oh my god, I'm in love!” Harry cooed, giggling and tilting his head back to avoid licks to his eyes. The poodle yipped excitedly, as if in response to his statement. “You're such a cute girl, Deva.” Her owner chuckled quietly. “She is,” Harry insisted, unfolding from the floor and returning half his attention to the middle aged woman in front of him while his fingers got lathered in slobber and nibbled at.

“Ugh, don't indulge her too much. She's my daughter's and I'm pet sitting while she's on hols, but I'm warning you. If you give in to her, she'll never stop coming at you. My husband learned that the hard way.”

Harry looked down at the dog. “How old is she?”

“I think she just turned one. Still young and foolish.”

He put on a pensive air. “Aahhh. I remember the feeling.”

“Oh, pshhh... you're a _baby_.” She patted his cheek with a bright smile and tugged Deva towards the stairs by her leash. The dog resisted for a second, but then seemed just as excited by the prospect of jumping the big steps one by one and bee lined past the woman.

“Have a good day, Mrs O'Maley.”

“You too, kiddo.”

He heard her chatting away at Deva, fumbling for her keys at the first floor landing, and ambled onto the elevator when the doors slid open. Technically, he could haved walked up to the fourth floor. As Mrs O'Maley had pointed out, he was still relatively young and healthy. Yet the mere thought of it made him crack his jaw on a yawn. Nope. Not today.

He made it three steps onto his floor before he faltered, one foot kicked forward in the air, eyes landing on a patch of colour on the floor. It revealed itself to be a scarf, splayed out on the carpet like it had been trailing after something and had eventually slipped off entirely.

Harry picked it up, and pulled his lower lip between his teeth. It wasn't his, and the only other door down that way was the one across from his flat. He poked at the doorbell button, hoping that the article of clothing was lost by whoever lived there on their way in, rather than out. Luck seemed to be on everyone's side, because he heard muted footsteps approaching before he could start considering a back up plan.

He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him as the door swung wide open. Quite obviously, the person was just as startled as he was, and had surely been expecting someone else.

They were a man. Possibly. Or they might have been a dream. Piercing, wide blue eyes and miles and miles of skin disappearing into loose brown linen trousers that wouldn't have looked out of place in a stage production of Robin Hood. The apparition's skin was green, with shadows of ochre and burnt sienna, safe for a third of his face, which he had been scrubbing to remove what must be translucent body paint.

“Err...” If Harry had had to guess for his age, he would have said mid to late twenties, because he couldn't see any wrinkles aside from shadows of laughter lines at the corner of his eyes. But the unusual skin color, the deep green lip, the sharp single eyebrow and liner and the pointed ears rendered Harry pretty unable to make out his actual features, and he figured he wouldn't be able to recognise him on the street. He was certain, however, that this was the first time they'd met.

The guy blinked, then gave a faint jerk and lowered the hand he had been scrubbing at the makeup with.

Okay. Maybe Harry would pick those eyes out of a crowd.

 _Get a grip, H, don't stare_ , said a voice in his head that sounded annoyingly similar to Gemma's. Why did his inner voice have to sound like his sister? “I, er... Is this yours?” he asked, dumbly, holding up the scarf. Then, as usual, he proceeded on to the babble part of the conversation. “It was on the floor, like it fell from a bag or something? And it looked to be trailing this way. Since there's only your flat and mine on this end of the corridor I figured...”

Recognition flashed across... well, it registered differently on both sides of the man's face. “I... yeah.” Harry stared idiotically as thin, green stained fingers retrieved the cloth from his grasp. “I just... got back. Had it looped around my rucksack, cheers, I... Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay. Welcome.” He shuffled in place, trying to get an impression of the man's features even from beneath the misleading makeup. Damn, those cheekbones. Realizing, probably half a minute later than a normal person would have, that wasn't very common or polite behavior, he stepped back. “I'll, erm... leave you to it.”

“Yeah, thanks, I...” The otherworldly humanoid gestured with his scarf holding hand. “cheers.”

Harry got into his flat in a daze, a voice in his head, that definitely did _not_ sound like Gemma, pointing out that the sight of sinewy muscles shifting under skin hadn't been an illusion of makeup.

 

xXx

 

“The door opened and then there was this- this… _creature_ , I swear to god, Ni. My new building is the gateway to an alternate dimension!” Harry threw his hands up in the air, even though Niall couldn't see it.

His friend's snort carried over the phone. Rude. _“Mate, you're being such a drama queen.”_

“No, seriously. Maybe he's an actor or something? Like a street artist? Covered head to toe in paint. Well. More like head to waistband.”

“ _Kinky.”_

“And then, earlier... I was walking out and I almost ran into this guy, like... outrageously handsome, mate. Seriously? Who looks that good coming back from the gym or something?”

“ _I thought your building had old ladies and families? When did this turn into fit lads territory?”_

“That's it, though. I think it was him again. I mean... I'm sure of it. Same build and-...” Harry's mind eye flashed back to startled blue eyes meeting his in the lobby, he sighed. “Yeah, just one. One super fit guy.”

“ _Why does that sound like it's a problem?”_ Niall had a superpower. He could make his voice squint at you over the phone. His _voice_ was scrutinizing. Not fair.

“It's not? Not really. It's just...”  
_“Harry.”_

“Nothing! It's just, twice I've met him now and all I've managed so far is to look like a babbling idiot and scare him off.”

“ _That sounds about right.”_

He saw again the way the lad had looked up, running his hair through damp strands to brush them back and off his face, exposing more ink inside his upper arm. He remembered the way his own breath had stuttered somewhere in his chest when cerulean eyes had locked on his, one arm still up and looking positively like an ad for a gym or one of those fit-spiration posters.

He remembered staring like a gobsmacked idiot. He remembered the flat tone, put upon sigh and the man jogging past the creep that Harry was.

“Doesn't it?” he sighed.

Honestly. That counted as a brand new low.

 

xXx

 

The trash bag sailed through the air in a slow arch and bounced against the bin's large plastic lid before falling in. The impact was hard enough that the cover rebounded off the wall and fell shut on the building's collective garbage disposal. “Yiss...” Harry cheered to himself, grinning. He put away his recycling in a less spectacular fashion and bunched up his bags, heading back out.

As he walked around the building to the front lobby, he heard warm laughter and looked up to find mystery-hot-lad-from-across-the-hall walking down the road alongside a beautiful girl, Starbucks treats in hand.

Reaching the front of the building, they moved to embrace, both moving the wrong way and Harry watched in dismay as one of the coffee cups met its demise in between them. The woman gasped, and Harry's I-swear-I-don't-have-a-crush-Niall-I-don't-even-know-the-guy jumped back with a yelp, wincing in pain. He cursed, and handed over a brown paperbag frantically. The girl made a clumsy grab for it while he bounced from feet to feet, peeling his soaked tee off his front. “Hot, hot, hot! Fooking hell-...!!”

“Oh, hun, are you okay?! I'm so sorry.”

The guy hissed and yanked his ruined shirt over his head, clearly still experiencing discomfort. “Not your fault, babe. Ow...” Harry winced in sympathy. Gorgeous McCheekbones' stomach was flushed pink from the burn, and so was the lower part of an inked – and perfectly shaped – pectoral. Harry cringed in particular commiseration for the nipple that got hit. Ow.

 _Hot, hot, hot. Fucking hell._ was right, though. And he wasn't thinking of the burn.

“Unhand me, woman! The scalding was enough,” Harry's neighbour cried dramatically when his companion tried to pat dry some of his stomach with another part of his shirt, shying away from the touch to his tenderized skin. “Eh,” he smirked at her. “When you said _let's go out for a roast_ , I didn't think you meant me.”

She leveled him with a flat stare. “Very funny.”

“Don't even chai to deny. I'm hilarious.”

“Sure you are, sweetie,” she patted his arm in condesention, supressing a smile. “You okay though?” When he nodded with a reassuring smile, she let him go. “Now get in before you give everyone an eyeful.”

Hot-hot-hottie looked up to the building, and Harry realized he'd stopped walking to gawk. Lucky for him, he wasn't spotted as the lad went on with his antics, spreading his arms as if for her to admire what he was like. “Oi, that's a public service I'm doing!” As Harry rounded the corner to the lobby, he saw him lean in to give her a quick kiss. He couldn't tell where it landed. “See you Sunday?”

“Sunday.”

“Say hi to your man for me!” his voice called, louder, somewhere behind Harry as he hurried inside. Cheek kiss then.

“Same to you-...” she called back from a distance. “ _oh wait_.”

“You're such an arse, Jesy,” Hot Neighbor growled at her without heat.

“You love me!” was the last thing Harry heard from her before the sound of the lobby's door swinging shut.

 _Ahhh ha. Single._ Harry's brain's Gemma Voice crooned in his head. It was frustrating and distracting. So much so that Harry then proptly walked into his mailbox.

Really, _into_. As in _face first_.

He reeled back, eyes wide at himself and fumbled to open it franticaly, hiding his face when hot-single-and-possibly-into-lads-neighbor jogged through the lobby.

Once the elevator doors closed, Harry started giggling at himself. _Really, H? Walking into things? What is this, pre school?_

When he composed himself enough to pick up his mail and pull back, he found Mrs O'Maley looking at him funny. He couldn't help it, he cracked up completely. He fled, unable to speak through his laughter, and ran up the stairs all the way to the fourth floor.

 

xXx

 

Hangovers were bad. Hangovers ware the spawn of Evil. Harry should have known better than to match pace with Niall.

He'd had a fitful night, full of horny drunken dreams, He'd woken up frustrated, feeling too bad for a wank, with his mouth tasting like he'd eaten out an ashtray before going to bed.

Which was unfair, because he and Niall had e _aten_ the pot brownies. And yet he had smoker's cotton mouth. Ugh.

He groaned to himself and rubbed at his temple, exiting the lobby into the bright, merciless sunlight. He took one step...

And then thought maybe he was still asleep. A few paces away from him, Cobalt Peepers was crouching down, eyes closed and head tilted back, trickles of white goop running down his cheek and over his lip. Harry didn't simply lose his train of thought. It somersaulted off the rails and went happily crashing into the gutter. After that, it proceeded to do the backstroke in a pool of mixing fantasy, porn, and the reality in front of Harry with as much desperate and ravenous energy it could muster in its poor state of being.

The lad's tongue darted out to swiftly lick the creamy substance off his lips and it somehow startled Harry into a clearer mind. His neighbor had an armful of groceries and he had probably just gotten assaulted by the drinkable yogurt that currently rested by his feet. Familiar, yet still shockingly breath taking eyes blinked back at Harry, looking annoyed and resigned with a hint of a plea.

Harry could read the desperation in them, which rang familiar with how he was feeling this morning. “You, uh... want some help?” he managed to offer.

“ _Nope._ ” Hot Unatainable Neighbour popped the end consonant petulantly.

He could have use the hand, Harry knew, but he understood wanting to face social humiliation on his own. He gave him a small sympathetic smile, hoping it didn't look as terrible as his entire body felt, and left him to it.

 

xXx

 

“Late. I'm late, late, late...” Harry scolded himself, quietly, zipping up his boots. He swung his door open and almost tripped as his feet froze but his momentum carried him on forward.

Fluffy Fringe And Killer Bum stood across the hall, on the phone, clad in nothing but a pair of loose sweats that fell over his shape in the most tormenting way possible.

Harry couldn't, for the life of him, decide whether he was grateful or really resentful that he regularly got an eyeful of the man with his top off. Really. It was unfair.

It wasn't giving Harry awkward rushes of heat, and induced self-consciousness-fueled workouts at all.

The lad appeared to be on the phone, resting his head against the wall by his door, speaking quietly. He probably had someone inside that he didn't want to wake, judging by his attire. “... never mind. Take your time,” he said softly, then turned to Harry.

Harry wasn't a feet person, in the general sense, but he had always found walking barefoot to be sort of oddly sexy. Gemma, for example, was capable of looking like a clothing advert when she toed off her pumps and walked around in her pencil skirt, blazer and stockings. It just looked... effortlessly hot.

He'd learned to deal. Growing up with Gemma taught him that, no matter how cute or handsome or classy or funny he thought he'd managed to be, he was always a runner up. That was not to mean he was bitter over it. On the contrary, big sister worship and family pride made him perfectly fine with the Hierarchy Of Awesome. Besides, Gemma was amazing, he had him plenty of room left to shine.

Also, pertaining to the situation at hand: staring, bad. Harry looked up when the guy covered his middle awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable at the absent gaze a stranger was leveling at his stomach. That looked silky smooth, lovely, and positively yummy.

_Focus._

It was funny, Harry thought, because he'd spent all his uni years accidentally exposing himself to his mates and neighbours. He was kind of proud he'd managed to think to put on clothes before stepping out in this building. So far.

He gave a smile to the blue eyed mystery and headed for the elevator, leaving him to mutter something about pain into the phone as he turned away.

 

xXx

 

Harry was on his way out to work when the elevator doors opened to let his tantalizing neighbor step through. He had his head down, fumbling with keys in his hands and... was it odd to notice people's eyelashes? To actually have a considering thought about how pretty they looked fanned across his cheeks from that angle? How he wanted to reach out, and maybe find out whether that tousled fringe was just as soft as it looked? Harry's living fantasy's demeanor, however, indicated that now was not the time to ask him if he conditioned. He hissed a swear, stomping into of the lift and generally radiating annoyance.

They were instants away from colliding, and Harry panicked. “I was gonna say _Good morning_ ,” he tried, and the lad looked up sharply, confirming he hadn't noticed another person in his suroundings. His expression fell flat and Harry cringed inwardly. He'd known it wasn't the time for humour, but that was the first thing out of his mouth when he tired to make his presence known. “but I'm getting the impression that it isn't very much,” he finished.

What he got in reply was a contained snarl. There was nothing remotely uncertain about it. “And it keeps on getting better and better.”

Harry tried to ignore the bitter feeling that his neighbor obviously didn't like him even though they didn't know each other at all.

Also. Fuck everything.

He watched as the man strode past, looking harassed. So yeah. Harry was aware he wasn't exactly what you'd commonly call funny. His attempts at humor usually fell on the side of quirky. 'Adorable werido', were the words Gemma and his mum used to qualify him on a regular basis. So his sense of comedy was not for everyone, and just now had obviously not been the right time, either. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. There was truly nothing worse than people holding you up when you were in a rush, or trying to talk to you when you were stressed and running through loads of things in your mind. He hated that he had just been that guy.

Unexpectedly, he got a reply. “Not your fault!” Blue Steel called back at him. “I just... must have done something pretty bad I'm not aware of, because The Universe seems hell bent on kicking my ass these days.”

Oh. Harry slammed his hand on the automatic doors when they tried to box him in. So his neighbor sounded frustrated and angry because he _was_ , just... not at Harry. Good. Because that was... to be honest, now that he was looking back at Harry from afar, he looked exhausted more than anything. Harry risked a step out of the elevator. “You okay?”

Behind a droopy fringe, the man gave a little smile. A genuine attempt, but that came off weary and more heartbreaking than anything else. “Always am,” he assured, sounding resigned, and disappeared into his flat.

Harry let himself into his flat, thinking about how adorable and cute his neighbor looked when in a strop. Then he felt a tug at his heart remembering the facade falling and the tiredness that showed.

Not for the first time, he wished it was acceptable to offer hugs to strangers just because they looked like they could use one. He wished he knew his new neighbor, so he could bake him a batch of cookies, make him hot cocoa and say “you can talk or not, but you're having coccooning hour, _right now_ ” and not risk a restraining order.

It worked wonders on Niall. Niall always started quiet and sad, and ended up pouring his heart out, whatever it was that was weighing it down, until he curled up against Harry and told him his cookies were shit because they were all gone.

Sometimes, if they were also drunk, Niall might murmur something about how he was going to hell because Harry was his favorite brother. Harry would probably save him a seat there, because he relished those moments.

 

xXx

 

Alright so... tonight had been semi wise.

Harry was going home early, see? -- Early- _ish_. – So that when he got up tomorrow for work, he wouldn't hate himself for still acting like he was at Uni. Plus he'd just been tipsy. Okay, he was still tipsy _now_ , so he could have been _less_ tipsy overall, but... by morning light, the alcohol would be long out of his bloodstream and he wouldn't suffer after effects of poisoning himself.

On the other hand... he had gone out in the first place. On a Thursday night.

So. There. Semi wise.

The comforting thought, though, was that he wasn't the only one. There was a person in front of the building, and that figure was starting to become familiar. Yes, he'd stared. His drunk-... His _tipsy_ self was willing to admit it. And speaking of, those jeans should have been illegal. Or mandatory.

He'd have to revisit the debate on that one.

Neighbor lad was... clearly ways beyond the tipsy stage, slightly swaying on the spot and having a staring contest with the keypad at the door. Maybe he had mind powers?

After a few seconds of watching and waiting, Harry decided that if he did, they were on the fritz tonight and stepped in to type the code in himself.

Hazy but bright – _fucking hell_ – eyes blue eyes turned to him at that, apparently only then registering the presence of another live being. And proceeded to take him in. A lot.

So.

This was the moment when Harry usually got his first real read on people. There were the ones that glanced at his 'night attire' and thought _GAY_ , that then looked at him like it was some sort of plague he had and was also intentionally trying to spread. Some who boggled at how different he could be, compared to the usual business casual or weekend looks. There were the people that thought _weirdo_ and either found him funny and cute or just shrugged it off. There were the women that seemed to think the way he dressed stated that he was not attracted to them and resented him for it. Some seemed pouty or disdainful. He'd also learned that disappointment at thinking a guy is gay would not necessarily turn into pleasant surprise if it turned out he was interested. Some people just liked to have everyone lust after them, even if they weren't not interested themselves.

Don't get him wrong. There was a statement there. And yes, part of it might have been _I'm not straight_. But the majority was _I like this shirt, I was born a few decades too late to wear it like this butt fuck it_. Okay. So that last part was Niall's way of spelling it. Still. The general idea stood.

He couldn't actually get a read on the reaction he got this time. It was always a coin toss with drunk people. Either it was easy as pie, or completely undecypherable.

What he could perceive easily enough, though, was surprise. His neighbor didn't seem put off by the attire, but when he reached Harry's face and recognized him, he obviously did a double take.

Doing something very akin to a moonwalk, the lad slipped inside the lobby more steadily that he probably should have, and wriggled his fingers in Harry's face, beaming. “Ohhhhh, it's the neighbor! Hiiii...”

Harry bit his lip on a giggle. Yup. Adorable. He called the elevator down from the first floor. “Harry.”

Instead of going in, he turned puzzled eyes to Harry. “Wha-...?” then frowned. “Hey, I'll take my time if I want to!”

It took a second for Harry to understand. “No- _Harry_.” Was he slurring his words more that he thought he was? It'd happened before. What with the usual speech pattern and all... “I'm Harry. Thats my name.” Baby blues blink at him. “You called me _the neighbor_.”

“Oh. Okay.” Harry got sucker punched by a brilliant smile. “Hi.”

“What's your name?” he tried, hoping their states of intoxication would mask the very faint squeak in his tone one way or another.

“I'm kinda smashed. Sorry.” He got instead after a long moment of mutual, not entirely sober staring. Ah. Well.

He chuckled good naturadely. “Alright, Kinda Smashed Sorry,” his hand flew to the lad's elbow on reflex, as the spin on his heel threatened his drunken balance. “Will you be okay getting in?” Mother _hen!_ This time, it sounded like Niall.

Niall needed to shut it, because Niall thrived on Harry's mumming tendencies.

“I... yeah,” Baby Blues said. Still, Harry kept an eye on him while he fumbled with his lock for a moment and opened his door. Satisfied, Harry got in himself. He was about to finish swinging his door shut when he startled at a yell of “Louis!”. The Neigh-... _Louis_ had turned around and was beaming at him from inside his flat, waving a hand like he stood across a field rather than a hallway. “I'm Louis.”

Dammit.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

He sounded like a star struck rom com cliché.

He needed to get a grip.

Once safe inside, he leaned against the door and laughed quietly at himself. Oh Louis, why so cute?


	3. Ed, Taylor & Everyone Else In The Room (can see it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm travelling tonight, I'm posting a bit earlier. I'm also posting the last two chapters because Chapter four is an epilogue.

“This is impressive work,” Louis ran a fingertip outside the edge of the fresh looking ink. The tiger was gorgeous, well drawn and the fine details of the rendering spoke of quality work. Taylor blinked at him serenely. She really was a cat person, in every sense of the term. “Ed did it?”

“He did.” She smiled, bringing her other arm in front of her to align both forearms, exposing the insides. Under the ring of titanium that cast a shadow on her perfectly painted red lip, her smile grew. “True artist, that one.”

The mirroring piece on her other arm had the same outer shape and shading. For all intents and purposes, from afar, they were to inverted inked patterns on her skin. The real genius had come in when drawing the feline, because the designs themselves had nothing in common. Therefore making those outlines complementary, while avoiding any impression that the drawing was _forced_ in order for them to look so, had been a tall order.

Opposite the tiger, sat the image of a hand, facing the onlooker, with long nails that dripped shiny red. The hand had a delicate hold on a wine glass. In the liquid, inked a different shade of crimson, lounged a man. He had his arms hooked around the edges of the glass, head tilted back and eyes closed, as he would if he relaxed in a jacuzzi. Or, you know. If he was dead.

Louis grinned at the piece and chewed on his lip. “You know I gotta ask.”

She smiled, inviting.

“Would this have anything to do with lyrics of a certain song, perhaps? Like, say, an extended version of a very famous hit?”

She made a noise. “Very good, Tomlinson.” Taylor Swift was the reason why the phrase _twinkle in her eye_ had been invented. “You're the first person to guess without a hint.” She narrowed her feline eyes. “Unless someone told you.”

Louis shook his head. “No, honest. It reminded me of the song when I first saw it. Been meaning to ask.” He shrugged. “Not much credit goes to me, though. I grew up with it, I think it's still Mum's favorite album.”

“I like your mom.”

He contemplated. Taylor and her war paint. The predator. The wine glass. The bloody manicure. The perfect arch of her eyebrow accentuating a sharp cat eye liner. “Why, though? Doesn't that make you a manipulator? It's kinda sad, isn't it?”

“Maybe.” Her real nails, that she trailed along the stem of the glass pensively, were cut neat and short, sporting a French manicure. “But also true. We're all cons.” She delivered the bittersweet comment shamelessly. “We all _present_ ourselves. Highlight what we want people to look at, try to hide what we don't want seen.”

He couldn't argue with that. But still, it was something else to have a permanent reminder on your body. “Like I said. Kinda sad.”

“Well.” She patted his hand consolingly. “We're kind of a sad species.” She grinned at him then, bright and crinkly eyed. “Look at it this way. It also says that, even though I can't always get what I want. If I try, sometimes...”

“You get what you need.” Louis finished, a grin breaking onto his face at her smile. “Yeah, okay.”

A couple of teenagers toppled into the shop, buzzing with nerves and excitement. He pushed away from the front desk. “I'll leave you to it, love. Have fun,” he chirped, when the kids came her way.

“Ohhh,” she waggled eyebrows at him. “Fresh meat.”

Louis went back to scanning the walls of the waiting area for new polaroids of works and recent sketches he might not have seen yet, as he'd been doing before their chat. Taylor went through the ritual of checking IDs and made one of the girls fill up a form. Louis gaze wandered towards the hall to the back rooms when a door creaked open and male voices started to drift out to him. Familiar voices. Sure enough, one of those came attached to an unruly mop of ginger hair, bright laughing eyes and a person that you'd want to cuddle, no matter how bad your day's been. The other... to a long set of bambi legs Louis had now seen quite a few times – and has _definitely_ not found himself thinking back on. Ever.

Surprise and recognition registered on his neighbor's face just as Louis' eyes finished traveling upwards. “Oh. Louis. Hi.”

The mounting tension between Louis' shoulders relaxed marginally. So Harry remembered, and apparently chose to be civil and friendly to him, instead of... laughing his perky little arse off, for example. _What?!_ Yes, he'd noticed _that_ , too.

“Hiya, Harold. Fancy meeting you here.” He grinned. “Ed. Alright?”

Ed squinted at the both of them. “Uh huh. Hi, Tommo.”

“Oh, uh...” Harry gestured with a front paw in between the two of them. Honestly, who even needed hands that big? “We were chatting. Sorry if I held you up.”

“No worries, mate,” Louis grinned. “Haven't been here long.”

“Say,” Ed cut in before Harry could start answering. “D'you guys think I'm a prude?” Both neighbors gave him a blank look.

“Mate, I’ve _met_ you. No way,” Louis said eventually, when he recovered from the change of subject. He took Harry's faint snort as agreement.

“Alright,” the red haired man enunciated slowly. “So, I don't care if you like some kind of ass instead of another, Tommo.”

“…Okay?” Louis blinked in confusion. He didn't think he ever mentioned being gay to the tattooist, but he'd never tried to actively hide it either. If anything, it was no wonder Ed had picked up on it. He was still a bit confused as to why this was brought up now, however.

It must have shown. Ed harrumphed and gave them both a half hearted glare. “I won’t take the piss if you get cutie couples tattoos, either. I might be a bit of a twat, but it’s also my business. I know how much it means to some, okay?”

Louis was _drowning_ in confusion. Floundering. It was impressive. “I…”

At least, Harry didn't seem to be faring any better, so he didn't have one more reason to feel like an idiot. “What are you on about, Teddy?” Harry asked.

Louis slanted him a smirk and a coo. “...Teddy?”

“Hush, you.” Harry's pouty kitten frown was adorable. Louis vowed to replicate.

“Look,” Ed sighed. “that’s your… what, fifth complementary pair? Lads, if you want to be smooth, pick different artists, yeah?” Louis' mouth fell open. He couldn't be saying-... “I don’t see why you both just don’t come in to get them together,” Ed continued. “Hold each other’s hand and make my teeth rot-…”

“Teddy, you-...”

“We’re not-…” Louis said weakly, dumbstruck, talking over Harry.

He glanced at the guy, finding his neighbor looking back with about as much puzzlement as he felt. Which was a relief, at least.

“Yu huh…” Ed shook a hand between them dismissively and left, his sarcasm heavy in the air between them.

Absently, Louis scratched at the spot he was getting touch-ups on today through his sleeve. He frowned. As far as he had experienced, Ed was sane. Even drunk and wild and _I swear mate this is a great idea_ (it never was), Ed wasn't crazy.

So. There had to be something.

“Um...” Harry shuffled his feet. Great. Thanks, _Teddy_. Things had been normal and not awkward between them for about half a minute. Had to be stopped.

“Harry?” Louis asked, not daring to look up at his face just yet.

“Yeah?” He could swear Harry was talking to his shoes.

They were being ridiculous. Louis squared his shoulders and looked up, drawing Harry's gaze. “What did you come in for?”

“I, uh... I'd have to-...” Harry mimed taking his arm out of his sweatshirt.

Louis ducked an eyebrow. “Curly, that shirt you wore did nothing to hide your butterfly _or_ your ferns. Nothing left the entire world hasn't already seen, I'm sure.”

“Heyyyy...” Harry's protest was a quiet mumble. Still, he tugged his arm in, and pulled his sweatshirt over his shoulder.

There it was. His entire arm. Exposed.

Nails – _nails??._ Pink Floyd prism – nice. Handshake. Skull. Ship. Anchor. And fresh, wrapped and raw looking, a rose.

“Please don't poke, some of it is very-… Louis?”

Louis blinked, and made a conscious effort to work his jaw shut. “Um... okay,” he breathed. He felt a bit dizzy. “So I kinda see Ed’s point.”

“Huh?”

Louis considered, then decided to say nothing, see if Harry spotted the connection that Ed and Louis had obviously made. He shrugged off his jacket, which left him in a tank, and offered his arm out for examination. Inner side first.

Harry's eyes trailed over random doodles and his lips quirked, then Louis pivoted his arm and his smile froze, expression growing gradually more stunned.

He lifted his arm, disbelief on his face, and held it aside Louis' as if to confirm what they already knew. Rope. Compas. The dagger, still standing out as fresh – the one Louis was in to touch up today –, called out for the fresh and raw rose.

“This is... this is mad,” he ended up breathing out, voice rough with shock and unsettlement.

“Truely... deeply mad.” Louis echoed.

Their arms brushed faintly, and Louis fought the shiver running up his spine.

“Well,” Taylor's voice startled them both. “that was definitely worth sticking around for.”

She stood behind her counter, looking smug, framed by the two gaping teenagers.

“But, like... who gets complementary tattoos before they meet?” one of them squeaked.

Louis cringed. Because, yeah. He, for one, would _love_ to know. He would, in fact, not have believed such a story at all if he hadn't been _living it_.

The other girl finally managed to pick her jaw up off the floor, only to give them a dazed “.... _hashtag soulmates_.”

Taylor burst in laughter. Beside him, Harry shifted his balance again. Louis glanced over, caught him jerking back to reality and tucking his clothes back on carefully. Their eyes met. Well, at least they were both at a loss. “and i see sparks fly...” Taylor sing songed.

Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands, and Louis turned to glare at her. She took pity on them, herding the teenagers into her booth. Before she closed the door, she smirked at Louis and mouthed something that looked a lot like _get me with those green eyes, baby..._ Louis ignored her. Forcefully.

When he turned, he found Harry staring down at his wrist, running a thumb along the edge of the anchor inked there. Louis opened his mouth to say... _something_ , but Ed's shout cut in before he can find any coherent thought to voice.

“Oi! Tommo! Any day now, mate!”

The call made Harry look up, and they exchanged a look. “We...” Louis started. “I'll see you, yeah?” It's not like they would have a hard time finding each other if they wanted to, right?

“Yeah,” Harry gave a small smile. “You will.”

 

xXx

 

Small mercies, Ed didn't pry during their session, aside from a _leaving you some time to get your stories 'straight'_ quip as they started. Soon enough, they sidetracked to their usual topics of chat: Ed's cats, family and music. Louis gushed over the little ones doing great in school, Ed snickered over the physical harm they'd put him through if they heard him refer to them as such. They then went on to praise Marianas Trench's Astoria, an album they had both been excited for and had not disappointed one bit. It lead to a medley of their favorite parts, a replay of their favorite quotes out of The Goonies, and a vow to re watch it together soon.

By the time Louis walked out, he'd almost forgotten he was in the middle of an improbable movie plot of his own. That was, up until he let the door of the shop swing shut behind him and spotted Harry on the bench across the street, hands cupped around a cardboard cup.

“Hi,” Louis said, feeling rather stupid, when he reached him.

“Hey,” Harry chewed on his bottom lip. “Are you busy? Now, I mean.”

“Uh, no, actually.”

Harry nodded. “Do you wanna, maybe, go somewhere? Have a cuppa.”

Louis quirked an amused eyebrow at his hands. “Another one?”

“That's gone cold actually.” Harry shrugged. “Or, I dunno, we could...” he pulled out his phone, lighting up the display. “... early dinner?”

Deciding didn't take long. “Okay.” This was far from what Louis would have imagined if he ever went out with Harry, back when he was Hot Neighbor and they'd never spoken. Usually, it would involve asking him out and it being an actual date and stuff. But. Nothing about this weird story of theirs had been normal so far. It seemed best to roll with it.

Harry swung his feet off the bench and climbed down, regarding him like he feared he'd forget if he looked away. “There's a place, nearby. Do you know The Craic House?”

“Do I-...?!” Louis beamed, suddenly confident that things would be fine from now on – provided his little curse was, indeed, broken. “C'mon, Harold. Let's have some of that honestly sinful finger food platter of theirs, and have a chat about what the hell is happening, yeah?”

Dimples dug their way into their rightful place on Harry's cheeks, a tell tale sign if you asked Louis. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

xXx

 

It did, indeed, turn out to be a plan.

A wonderful plan.

A thunderous one.

Craic was had.

Louis. Was drunk.

That was okay, though, because Harry's eyes were shiny and his smile was this shade of dazed and they were laughing.

They were on the same ship. Boat. Ship?

Whatever!

They'd found they had a lot in common. From even more tattoos that could easily be related in pairs or more, to musical tastes, dreams, pet peeves, quirks, food obsessions and even concerts and parties they'd both attended without meeting (!!!??). Between laughter and incredulous exclamations, they'd downed pints, and shared an amount of food Liam would have frowned upon. Slowly, as they'd learned to anticipate the other's reactions or opinions, it had started to feel more and more like reconnecting with an old friend than getting to know a stranger.

They stumbled out of the bar, after many promises not to drive home – it wasn't like they'd _walked_ here in the first place or anything – and Louis leaned over to bump into Harry's side. Maybe a bit too hard, as they both took a couple of unsteady steps sideways. “Nialler is probably so pissed he's workiiiiing,” Louis giggled covertly. “Did you see him? He was looking at us like he was jealous cause we're having _all_ the fun.”

Harry chuckled. “I think he was mostly wondering how we know each other.”

“Niall's my best friend! He always slips me extra food.”

Harry snorted. “Alright, I believe you.”

“It's a good foundation for a friendship!”

“I agree. I just happen to know Niall outside of work.”

“But. His work. Harold. Curly Fries. Hazza. His _work_. Has beer. And _food_.” Louis pointed out solemnly.

“Ah. So you only like him for his talents as a provider, then.” Harry teased.

Louis paused for a step, then caught up. It seemed important, suddenly, to point out that he was joking. Because Niall was Harry's actual friend. “Nah, I mean. He's a nice lad. He's a right laugh, that one. And yes, I do like the perks but... If... I'd like to know him. You know? Like... you could introduce us? Cause... the right laugh part.”

Harry ducked his head. “Might as well, someday. I sure will get quizzed about you now.”

“Ohhh.”

Harry nudged his side. “How drunk are you?”

Louis nudged back, shaking his head softly. “Not that much.”

There was a beat. “You sure?”

“Yeah, i just... I'm buzzin, yeah, but... I like to give in to the feeling, act silly and loud but... I haven't had that much. I'm not... you know.” He made a vague gesture with his hand, hoping the blush he felt on his face wasn't noticeable.

It was odd to be stating this out loud, because he thought he knew what Harry was asking. And it was a self conscious thing to acknowledge out loud. The past few hours had made Louis certain of a few things. Yes, he definitely, _definitely wa_ s attracted to Harold Curly Styles, neighbor improbable, witness of his eternal misfortune. He also happened to really like the person the gorgeous physique hosted, that he'd gotten to discover little by little tonight. And no, he wasn't drunk enough to have lost his senses. Whatever happened now, whatever was said, would be remembered. Would be a little less inhibited, yes, but in control.

“This is nice, yeah? I had a good time,” he admitted, as they rounded the last corner to their street.

Harry dimpled at him, bright and frank. “Me too.”

“This whole thing... it's a bit whack-...”

“Massively whack.”

“... massively whack, yeah. But... I'm glad we met. Even though... someone or something really wanted me to look like an utter knob in front of you _a lot_ , you agreed to talk to me. So, thanks.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, please, urgh. Stop running into me half dressed, it's _awful_.” He nudged Louis with his elbow and they both laughed quietly. Over the course of the evening, they'd both hinted that Ed had been right, and that they could potentially be interested in each other because they both did _swing that way_. Louis thought... Louis thought he may have been reading signals right, and even though it'd been a while, he could still tell when someone was flirting back, maybe. So.

Maybe it was the good karma he was due?

Maybe it was just breaking the curse.

“This is like a movie, right?” he said, spreading his arms to encompass the street. “The new neighbor. The gag mishaps that, really, could _not_ happen in real life. Honestly!” he insisted as Harry giggled. “The chain of unbelievable. The friends in common. The Script! The tattoos! The _you_ , always there to see me as I made a right tit of myself. The _always_ you.” They stopped, because they'd arrived at their destination, and Louis swung on his feet to stand in front of Harry, palming his collar in contemplation. Harry watched him, attentive. “And, us. Everything, like a movie. So, I wanna kiss you on your doorstep, because it's starting to rain.” Harry stared back, eyes a tad wider. “Get it? Like in a movie?”

Louis blinked. Harry was still looking at him oddly. “You wanna kiss me?”

Oh. Yes. He might have said that out loud. “Oops?”

“Lou.” A touch grazed his chin. Harry's eyes pleaded for Louis to be serious.

“Yeah,” he whispered. This wasn't the alcohol. “All the time.”

Harry sighed, a smile spreading on his face, and cupped Louis' jaw in one hand, fingers threading in his hair. Louis simpered back, because he'd done that. He'd put that expression on Harry's face. Score. _Good job, me_ , he thought.

Then he stopped thinking for a while, because Harry leaned down, angling his chin up and they were kissing. It was chaste. Proper, and gentle. It was what Louis had asked for. A movie first kiss. And it was definitely raining now. Louis let out a soft giggle in between them and pushed in, pressing closer. Harry gave a happy sound and they joined again.

Their bodies became extensions of their kiss. Lips locking and chasing each other in turn, grinning. Louis' hand was in Harry's hair even though he couldn't remember reaching up, but it was damn convenient, because he'd wanted to pet just there for weeks. When they pulled back, he smiled, goofy and drunk on something far better than free pints. “... yeahh...” he murmured, eyes closed, their foreheads resting together.

Harry let out a small chuffed laugh, and nudged their noses together. He pulled back, blinking as raindrops hit his face, and jerked his head towards the porch. “Wanna come up?”

“Har, har. You're a comedian, Harold,” Louis quipped, but he was grinning. He took Harry's hand to lead the way.

They made it to their floor before they let all pretenses go and started making out like teenagers. Louis pressed them harder against Harry's door, a low groan of approval reaching in ears. He smirked, trailing a line of open mouthed kisses under Harry's jaw. The faint scratch of day old stubble was a pleasant burn, a reminder that this was real, that the sting was familiar, and yet it'd been so long. That he'd feel this tomorrow. That he'd have a good reason to need chapstick again. He smiled, and sucked at a spot behind Harry's ear.

“ _Fuuuck_ , Louis,” Harry drawled, his hand on Louis' waist tightened, and it was _huge_. It urged Louis forward, erection warm and unmistakable against Louis' belly.

“Fucking hell, Harold,” Louis mumbled, pulling back so he could bite at Harry's lips again, they were just so... “we call it wood, but it isn't meant to be an actual _tree_.”

Harry chuckled low in his chest, both hands coming up to cradle his face. “I'm sure...” he mumbled between kisses, “you'll find the perfect way... to handle hmm-me..” he nipped at Louis' lip playfully. “given how you manhandled me in this position.” He punctuated his statement by a roll of his hips. “..which, obviously... ı have no complaints about.”

Louis growled in the kiss, palming Harry's hipbones with both hands and pressing him harder against the door, rubbing himself roughly alongside his length like a promise. Harry whined, panting in his neck.

“Yeah, like that.”

Louis cursed, reached up for a kiss and... Harry tensed up, hissing in pain. In a second, Louis realized he just palmed the part of Harry's arm where the rose tattoo was still very fresh and raw. “Shit, sorry.”

Harry took a steadying slow breath, eyes closed, while Louis cursed himself inwardly. “S'okay.” He breathed out, then opened his eyes. He smiled at Louis, thumbing the corner of his mouth and leaned in to join their lips again. The kiss was so gentle, Louis felt light headed from it.

They stayed like that, the heat deflated, arousal on the back burner, trading soft nips and chasing each other's mouths playfully. “Alright,” Louis said mournfully, after ages of this. “time to be reasonable.”

“Hate that word,” Harry mumbled around his earlobe before flicking his tongue at the flesh. Louis shivered.

He licked his lips and stepped back. “This is... I like this. Yeah? So. I want to pick this up later, not...”

Harry met his eyes, his thumb grazing Louis' cheekbone. “Not burn it all out at once?”

Louis smiled, a little sadly, resolutely ignored how pretty Harry's lips looked when they were all bitten pink like that. He nodded.

Harry didn't try to hold him back when he stepped away, but he maintained contact between them as long as he could, letting his hand fall when his arm was well and extended.

The hallway never felt that large, really, when they both stared at each other over the distance, backs pressed to their respective doors.

 

xXx

 

Working out with Liam always seemed like a good idea at the time.

Louis worked his neck, warm and damp from the shower, and rolled his shoulders back. He was certainly going to feel that tomorrow. Then again – he grinned down at his stomach and patted his satisfyingly defined abs – you know, no pain, no gain. And he had to admit, he was ridding a nice buzz of _I did something with my body today that did not involve going from one sitting spot to another_.

He yawned, more or less throwing the towel back on his head and rubbing half heartedly at his wet hair. He frowned when Liam's characteristic rattle of _knock-knock knock_ sounded from his door. He glanced down and noted that he was only wearing a pair of boxers and an old threadbare – comfy as hell – pair of jeans, wriggled his toes, and... “fuck it.” He padded over and swings the door. “Li, wha-...?”

“Holy shit.”

Louis froze, gaping, at the sight of Harry on his doorstep. Harry who looked adorable and cuddly as hell in a lilac jumper. Harry, who he was sure he hadn't heard coming home and that hadn't answered his door earlier. Harry, gaping right back at him. “Haz-... Harry, _shit_ , hi!” Belatedly, he dropped his arm and cradled his towel to his chest like an idiot.

Harry bit both lips to fight a smile, lost the battle against a dimple popping out. “You really do wanna kill me,” he accused.

“I, uh... C'mon in.” Louis backtracked hurriedly. “I'm gonna go... do some... put on something, yeah.”

“I, uh... I can come back, or...” Harry offered, even though he took a step inward. “I mean...”

Louis looked at him. Fucking hell. Painted on persian blue jeans and a lilac sweater. Anyone else and it would look bloody ridiculous. But on Harry? It just made Louis wish he was a cat, so he'd have an excuse to just... rub himself all over and curl up for a nap. “... you mean?” he prompted.

“Well, you...” he gave a small grin, glancing at Louis' mid section. “... don't have to.”

“Is that right?” Louis smirked, and made a show of spreading his arm wide, dropping the towel on the back of a chair, challenging eyebrow raised. “Thought I was killing you?”

Harry shrugged casually, but he was looking with a lot of intent. “Maybe I like the pain.”  
Louis bit his lip. _Cheeky_. He was just perfect, wasn't he? He cleared his throat. “... right. What, uh... what brings you, then, young Harold?”

It was only then that Louis noticed the plastic box dwarfed by Harry's truly ridiculously large hands. Louis _loved_ those hands. “Food,” he said, gesturing with the tupperware. “and... hopefully, your company?”

Louis squinted one eye at him. “Piqued. Alright. Do go on.”

“I made muffins. You said you liked apple cinnamon...” he said, popping one corner of the lid.

“No fucking way” In a second, Louis was in his space, bringing the whole thing – hand, box and pastries – to his face and taking a whiff like a junkie would take a hit.

“... it so happened I had apples handy...” Harry finished.

Louis looked up at him, with exaggerated heart eyes full of mirth and glee. “You're hired.”

Harry beamed back. “so, um...”

Louis considered, then smirked, whirled around on his heel and offered Harry his elbow “My dear Harold, shall I have the honor of being your escort to Low Tea on this beautiful evening?”

Harry giggled, ducked his face down. His smile was shy when he wrapped his arm above Louis' elbow and let himself be marched into the kitchen.

Louis ended up grabbing the henley he had brought out to wear and shrugging it on, for both their sakes. “Hey,” he tugged Harry closer when the kettle was on, pulled him in. He pushed his hand through Harry's hair and guided him into a soft, lingering kiss. When they broke apart, they smiled at each other, soft and a tad daft. “This is nice, yeah?” Louis checked. Harry's dimple deepened. “This is happening?”

There was a faint flush high on Harry's cheeks, it made his eyelashes stand out in a lovely way when he looked down and bit his lip. “Hope so.”

“Good. Then it is.” Louis pushed himself up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Top of my head, I have...” He narrowed one eye, thoughtful. “Yorkshire, Darjeeling, Irish Breakfast...”

“Do you have green tea?”

Harry found himself confronted with Louis' flat stare. “We're breaking up.”

It didn't seem to worry Harry all that much, since he snorted and started chuckling.

“Ugh.” Louis detangled his hand, rubbed at Harry's arm, then down his forearm. “Sorry, love. Do you have some at yours? I can't help you there, but-...”

Harry interrupted with a press of his lips. “Whatever you're having's fine.”

It was not really a surprise to either of them that Harry ended up staying for dinner.

When Louis started going cross eyed, Harry took pity on him and insisted he went to bed. Louis insisted he wanted to keep snuggling.  
It was not really a surprise either when Harry ended up staying the night.

 

xXx

 

When Louis woke up, he was warm and comfortably snug in a big spoon position. He hadn't even cracked an eye open yet, and a smile was already threatening to split his face in half if it got any wider.

Harry smelled lovely. The memories of last night were a bit hazy – god, Harry had actually tucked him into bed, hadn't he – and he seemed to have zoned out the part when Harry removed his clothes. Damn. He remembered kicking his own jeans off and plonking down on his mattress, but it must have been lights out for him before Harry even joined him.

Salient point being, Harry's legs were bare against his, and his lovely miles and miles of back were all silky skin just asking for Louis to taste everywhere he could reach. Shifting only a fraction, he kissed Harry's shoulder, breathing him in lazily.

Harry hummed in response, ever so slightly pushing back, and stretched his neck for easier access. Groaning in approval, Louis used the arm he had wrapped around his ribcage to mould himself even closer, nosing behind Harry ear, his morning stiffy pressed against Harry's bum. There was a tiny _umff_ of actual sound, then Harry's hand covered Louis', guiding it down to press it unabashedly to his own hardness.

Louis nipped at Harry's shoulder, adding some pressure of his own to his hand, and wondered which of the two actions got the hitched breath as a result. He kissed the abused skin, and mumbled. “Day off...”

“Glorious, glorious weekend,” Harry croaked in response, voice cracking from disuse.

Louis trailed his hand up, rubbing fondly at Harry's lower stomach, pinky teasingly peeking under Harry's waistband. Harry huffed quietly, rolling his hips back into Louis. Louis shuddered, pressing his smile into warm, silky skin. “Whatever shall we do?” he mused.

Harry turned to face him, and their eyes meet. Despite the morning fog, there was heat and clear-minded intent in the look. Louis' eyes dropped to Harry's lips, and Harry shifted closer like he was about to go for a kiss too, morning breath be damned.

And then there was noise in the flat that did not come from the bedroom, followed by an annoyed grumble in the hall. “.. waiting for twenty minutes. Y'better not be hungover, Tommo, I-...” Liam lost steam on his tirade and stood frozen, hand still on the door he just swung wide open, gaping. Harry stared back at Louis, eyes wide.

Unperturbed – and really, _practiced_ , fucking curse – Louis stroked a soothing hand along Harry's neck. “Speaking of plans. How about...” he started, “We kick my stupid best friend, that I love very much but that I wont be going on a run with, out of my bedroom, steal his spare key and give it to you instead.”

Silence stretched. Louis wondered if someone had actually pressed pause on everyone but him, until Harry blinked and set everything back into motion.

“Seriously? He's not getting my spare key,” Liam deadpanned.

“ _Liam_.” Louis protested, cradling Harry closer dramatically. “He _bakes_.” Liam needed to understand the importance of these things.

Liam sighed. “I'll have a copy made,” he said, as if this was a perfectly sane conversation to have. “I'll go,” he announced, and addressed Harry. “Mate, if you stick around, I hope Louis introduces you so I get to say nice to meet you.” He turned away. “Treat him right.”

“I intend to,” Harry said quietly, finding his voice.

“Wasn't talking to you,” Liam called back from the hall.

“...Oi! Piss off, Payno!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taylor's hand/wineglass/bleeding man tattoo is actually a project of mine. The way she explains it is the way I feel about it. For those who didn't get it from the exposition, it's from extended lyrics of You Can't Always Get What You Want, by The Rolling Stones.
> 
> The song she quotes is Sparks Fly. Because, as we know, her weakness for green eyes dates wayyyyy back.


	4. Epilogue

A year later

 

Louis mouthed at Harry's shoulder, still clinging to the feeling of his afterglow. He watched as he traced the contours of the clasped hands inked at the back of Harry's arm. Harry sighed and threw the small towel off the bed, rolling over so they could resume their naked cuddle.

Louis appreciated this bed. His pillows were really nice. On occasion, though, they didn't stand a chance against the crook of Harry's shoulder. He snuggled in happily, unbothered by the dampness of their skin. It was, after all, the result of very pleasant activities.

“How long do we have until we have to get up?”

Louis nuzzled into a perfect position. “Hm. We can get away with twenty more minutes.”

Harry rested his face his hair, and they basked in each other's warmth in content silence. When he started feeling drawsy, Harry began trailing absent caresses on Louis' hip to keep from drifting off. “This is gonna work, right?”

“F'course it is.” Louis scratched his fingers though Harry's happy trail, then traced ferns from memory, “and if it doesn't... it'll be great anyway.”

Harry chewed at his lip. “The thing is... Liam _expects_ a surprise from you.”

Louis chuckled. “Yeah he does. He'd be stupid not to, he _knows_ me.”

“But...”

Louis lifted a finger. “ _But_ , he expects a nasty surprise.”

Harry snorted.

“And he'd be right, too. I TPed his car, two years ago. With glue.”

Harry made a scandalized sound. “With glue?!”

Louis waggled a dismissive hand. “With wallpaper adhesive that washes off, but... I did wait a whole day to _tell him_ that.”

Harry laughed, squeezed Louis closer. “You're a menace.” He got a nipple twist for his troubles.

“Hey now, What did I get you for your birthday?”

Harry softened, and wriggled down so he could look Louis in the eye when he smiled. “Backstage pass to meet Stevie Nicks. And that was-...”

Louis cut in. “No, hey, I just meant I'm not just a mena-...”

Harry shut him up with a kiss. “But it was too much, babe. Honestly, Lou, I can never top that-...”

“Are you quite finished?” Louis huffed, and pushed hair off of Harry's cheek. “You. You top that. Everyday, in my life. _This_ is a gift. So, shut up, and kiss me.”

Harry giggled, but complied. “...you sap,” he couldn't help commenting.

Louis shrugged a shoulder, unconcerned. “Guilty.”

“Which is why... for your best friend's thirtieth birthday... you snuck all his family into town”

“Yep,” Louis bopped Harry's nose with a grin. “and my sexy assistant will smuggle them in his own white picket fence suburban house while I drag the birthday boy all around town as a distraction.”

“You're the best”

“I'm my best, only when I'm with you.”

“God, you're awfully cheesy when you've just come.”

“Oi.”

Harry rolled them over and braced himsefl over Louis, hovering. “Remember that bit about shutting up and kissing? I'm told we can have fifteen more minutes of it, so...”

Louis laughed, kicked his knee out so Harry fell on top of him. And they shut up. For many more minutes.

 

 

 

xXx

 

Two years later

 

“The honeymoon look suits you,” Liam decided, grinning at them both.

“I think he means the tan,” Louis said, and presses his lips to a dimple, just because he could. They hadn't been back a day, yet, therefore no one was allowed to make gagging noises or grumble about sickening married couple antics yet.

“I mean the glow, but close enough.”

“It was nice to catch up here at the same time, though. Everybody at once.”

Niall picked up his drink with a smirk. “Sorta.”

“ _Ehhh_.” Ed made a sharp buzzer sound. “No cigar for you, Horan. I saw them first.”

The Irishman sputtered in his brew. “What do you mean you saw then first?! I got here before you!” He looked downright scandalized.

Taylor patted his knee with a comforting expression. “They stopped at the shop earlier. I wasn't in, but... Sorry, Ni.”

Zayn ducked his eyebrows at them. “You got new ink?”

Louis and Harry, who had been watching the exchange, silently entertained, exchanged a grin. Harry licked his lips. “Finished old ones, actually.”

In tandem, they turned their wrists over and tugged their sleeves up reveal the small identical crowns on their pulse point.

“Cause we're married,” Louis said, and tugged Harry's hand to him, turning it so that he could press his lips to the simple platinum band there.

Liam frowned. “So, they're like... _you’re my king_ or something?”

Harry, giggleed. “I mean, that too.”

Taylor gave them a knowing smirk. Either she'd put it together herself, or she'd had a conversation with Ed. She pointed a finger at them. “ _You_ are in love. True love.”

Harry pulled Louis against his chest, wrapping his arms around and hid the smile that threatened to break his face in two in Louis' neck. They laughed when they surveyed the mostly blank faces from the rest of their friends. “C'mon Nialler, you should know that one,” Louis prompted.

Niall frowned, then narrowed his eyes at the look Harry gave him. He tracked his friend's movements as he pressed his face to Louis' shoulder, and planted a kiss to the top of Louis' arm through the soft jumper. He met Louis' smug eyes, and realisation dawned on his face. “...nooooo,” he dragged out.

Louis snickered. “ _Yes_.”

And with that, Niall dissolved into a fit of laughter that would have resulted in upending his pint all over the table, if it hadn't been for Zayn and Taylor's sharp reflexes.

Harry glanced at his chuffed looking husband. “Yup, think he got it.”

“ _What?!_ ” Liam intoned.

Taylor started humming, and Ed decided to put the rest of then out of their misery.

“ _You can hear it in the silence.”_

“Louis’ got the heart,”

“ _You can feel it on the way home.”_

“Harry’s got the clasped hands.”

“ _You can see it with the lights out.”_

“They...!” Niall managed through his laughter. “They finished the fucking married claddagh!”

_Lights out._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taylor quotes lyrics from You Are In Love. From the moment I heard it, it felt like a foetus!Larry anthem. I had to fit it in sometime.
> 
> xXx
> 
> Hope you like it. I've got quite a few fics that are Almost Finished™, and I'm trying to tackle them one by one so that I actually put stuff out for a change.
> 
> I'm Original-Cypher on tumblr, if you want to stop by.


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